Stefan Jokes
by Sardonic Kender Smile
Summary: The Greil Mercenaries need to rest up for a big march tomorrow…too bad Boyd and Rolf won’t go to sleep. In which the mercenaries are all sucked into telling tall tales, Soren is even more irritated than usual, and Stefan is…Chuck Norris?


_A/N: Once more, my excuse is getting the idea for this at…like, three in the morning. I thought it was bloody hilarious then, even though it's totally not, but hey—I haven't written straight humour in a while, so let's see how this goes. xD_

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**_Stefan Jokes_**

"Look, I'm Stefan! HYYYAH!"

With a mighty battle cry and an impressively high jump, Rolf lunged for his brother, brandishing a long wooden spoon. Boyd, rather than ducking away, met the challenge head-on by grabbing Rolf in midair and tossing him over his shoulder. The little archer crashed onto the table, sending plates spinning to the floor and snapping his wooden spoon in half.

"Wrong again, twerp!" Boyd shouted, exultant, as he stood with arms akimbo in the most excellent of all heroic poses. "Stefan can't lose a fight—but you just did! So that means _I'm_ more like Stefan than you!"

From across the long table in the dining room of the inn, Soren looked up from his book and raised an eyebrow in irritation. Ike, too, tore his eyes from his maps and battle strategies to glance at the brothers. It was lucky that it was already quite late at night and that all the other guests at the inn had left the dining room and gone to bed—otherwise, the ruckus that Boyd and Rolf were causing would probably get the Greil Mercenaries kicked out of their own temporary beds.

_Again._

Of course, the two hooligans didn't seem to realize this…they were still bickering and filling the air with their nonsense. Ike sighed and Soren scowled.

"Aww, Boyd!" whined Rolf, raising the two splintered halves of his "sword" with sudden tears swimming in his eyes, "Look what you've done!"

"Look what _I've_ done? You're the one who charged me!"

"Y-you threw me onto the t-table and all the plates broke—"

"You're the one who hit the blasted plates!"

"Because you _threw_ me at them!"

"Accept responsibility for your actions, pipsqueak—"

"You're a fine one to talk!"

"Be a man!"

"_Be a man!_"

"DON'T YOU MIMIC ME IN THAT GIRLY LITTLE VOICE!"

_"Don't you mimic me in that—" _

The argument was abruptly cut off as Soren stood up and slapped his palms down on the table. One glance from his scarlet eyes caused the brothers to shut up immediately, and an angry tic started at the edge of one of his slate-black eyebrows. Not only did the Mercenaries—and the ragtag army that they had acquired—have a huge and tiring march to complete tomorrow in their desperate attempt to reach Daein, but Rolf and Boyd were being incessantly annoying when they should have been asleep, _and_ reparations were going to have to be made to the owner of the inn for his shattered plates. Soren had Officially Had Enough…and the fear in Rolf and Boyd's eyes showed that they understood that this was to be spelled with capital letters, even though they couldn't read a tenth as well as Soren himself could.

"That's it," the mage hissed quietly. "I am sick of you two horsing around when I have important strategies to plan. Tomorrow is too important to waste because of your foolish child's play. You are both to go upstairs and go to bed—_immediately_."

"It was Rolf's fault--!" Boyd tried to protest, but Ike, who was sitting at Soren's side, gave him a Look—which was also spelled with capital letters.

"C'mon, Boyd, please…just help Rolf go to bed? Tomorrow is going to be a long day."

"All right, all right," Boyd muttered. He grabbed his protesting little brother by the collar and dragged him up the stairs to bed.

xXx

"That was the worst impression of Stefan I've ever seen," Boyd grumbled as he slid beneath his blankets. Rolf snuggled deeper into his own bed, beside his brother's, and glanced at the empty bed across the room that Oscar would occupy later.

"Yeah, well, you're not a good Stefan, either! He wouldn't go around just _throwing people_ at things!"

"Stefan throws all the time," Boyd retorted, placing his hands behind his head. A moment of silence passed between the two brothers, during which they reached the same unspoken agreement that they were _not_ tired and would _not_ go to bed no matter what Soren said, before Boyd jokingly added, "In fact, even after drinking too much, Stefan doesn't throw up…he throws _down_."

"Unlike Uncle Shinon," said Rolf with a badly-repressed giggle. "He had _way_ too much to drink, tonight…even though he said he deserved to let go a bit because earlier today he killed two birds with a single arrow…it was pretty neat…"

"But could he kill two birds with one _stone_?" Boyd quipped, feeling quite clever. When Rolf didn't seem to grasp his sheer mastery of word play, the axe-fighter tried again: "You know, I bet Stefan could kill two birds with one stone. He could kill two stones with one _bird_."

Rolf rolled over on his side so that it was easier to face his brother, now grinning. "Yeah, I bet he could. And I bet his house has no doors—only walls that he _walks through_."

"Yeah, yeah!" Boyd agreed, and soon the two were laughing harder than people who are supposed to be asleep should.

xXx

Soren's gaze snapped up from his book again.

He heard laughter.

He glanced around the room quickly, trying to determine its source, but could find no answer to the conundrum. The room was now silent and still, save for the occasional rustle of paper as Ike checked a different map, or the soft clink of cutlery as Oscar and Mist slowly cleared the table to help poor inn's tiny kitchen staff (who obviously hadn't been expecting the likes of Ilyana). The hungry little mage herself was sitting off in the corner, flicking through a Thunder tome, while Titania cleaned her axe nearby. Rhys, Mia, and Gatrie were all beside the hearth, probably close to dozing, and even the chipper Marcia was slouching wordlessly in her chair.

But then the laughter sounded again, wafting down from the narrow wooden staircase, and Soren's eyes narrowed. Even Ike noticed it, this time.

"Who is that?" he asked softly.

"Who else?" Soren returned through gritted teeth.

Oscar chose that moment to pick up a cup near the army's leaders, gently inquiring, "What is the matter, Soren?"

"Please control your brothers," the sage hissed. "Just go up and get them to sleep. We can't allow them to threaten tomorrow's march with their tomfoolery."

"Okay," said Oscar uncertainly, but he put the cup back down on the table and ventured up the creaky stairs.

Just as Oscar was about to push open the door to the room he and his brothers were assigned, he heard another burst of laughter from Boyd, and Rolf's voice proclaiming,

"Stefan once got into a swordfight…and the sword lost!"

Oscar smiled, opened the door, and stuck his head inside the room. "Hey you two, Soren said that it's time for--"

"Oscar!" greeted Boyd, "You're just in time! You've gotta get in here and listen to this…what Rolf just said was pretty funny--"

"I heard," the paladin interrupted patiently. Still, the smiles on his brother's faces temporarily drove away Soren's message. Rolf and Boyd certainly hadn't been smiling very much since the war began, and he couldn't help but feel a bit guilty that he hadn't done a better job of sheltering them from it all. That was probably the reason why he could help adding a single line to their fun conversation: "I also heard…that Stefan can lead a horse to water _and_ make it drink."

"I bet!" said Rolf, and Oscar chuckled slightly as he walked into the room and settled down on the edge of his bed.

xXx

The laughter. Soren heard it again.

"Blast all _three_ of the brothers, then," he muttered, now casting his eyes around for somebody to champion the enlightened ideal of bedtime. He had trusted Oscar to be responsible enough, but had underestimated the fact that even the squinty-eyed paladin had a soft spot when it came to his siblings. Soren would have to find someone even _more_ dependable. His eyes landed upon the redheaded man on the floor by the fire, sitting quietly with Mia's mass of purple locks resting on his shoulder. She was asleep; the man was smiling gently. It would be a shame to ruin such a peaceful moment…but Soren didn't care.

"Rhys," he said finally. His words stabbed through the silent air of the room like a knife, and the young priest gave a jolt of surprise.

"Y-yes, Soren?" he asked, quickly rising to his feet and sending Mia's head—still quite asleep—plopping to the floor.

"Please go up and make sure that everyone goes to bed. This is imperative."

"Oh, all right…sure…I'll be right back, then…"

Clutching his staff, Rhys glanced back at Mia's snoring form, carefully climbed up the stairs, and (after tripping over the last one) disappeared from view.

xXx

Yes, there were certainly laughing people behind that door. Rhys felt rather sorry that he would have to interrupt their merriment, but he had told Soren that he would get the job done. He lifted a hand to knock on the door—

"The grass is always greener on the other side," Boyd's voice said faintly through the wood, "except when Stefan's on that side—then it's just red with blood."

A phantasmagoria of terrible images suddenly assaulted Rhys—Stefan was _indeed_ what he would associate with blood, as he always left a trail with it, was always covered in it when seeking the aid of a Heal staff, always had ruby droplets dripping from his sword. Boyd's words made it all too easy for Rhys to envision an entire field flooded with blood, clotting on the stones and soaking into the dirt and drowning the grass, the stench burning his nose and the horrid black-crimson colour burning his eyes. A wave of nausea swept over him, and he staggered against the door with a _thump__!_

"What was that?" asked Oscar's voice suddenly.

Rhys tried to shift his weight back to his own two feet, but suddenly the door was opened from beneath him and he quite literally fell into the room.

"Rhys?" Rolf gasped.

Boyd peeked over the edge of his bed at the sprawled-out priest. "Sorry, didn't know _you_ were outside. Otherwise I wouldn't have told that joke."

"It's okay," Rhys assured weakly as Oscar pulled him up. "Stefan _is_ quite…quite formidable. He charges into whole groups of enemies and k-kills every single one…and then I always have to heal him afterwards…"

Oscar's face was concerned, and Rolf's eyes were sympathetic, and Boyd still looked like he was thinking about feeling apologetic. Rhys felt bad for making them worry—especially when they had only been doing an innocent thing like telling jokes. To wipe that undeserved compassion from their faces, Rhys gave the brothers a half-hearted smile and attempted a joke of his own:

"I'm sure that if Stefan ever had to fight himself…both sides would win. And it would not be a tie, either."

The brothers continued to stare at him for a moment, incredulously, but then the three all grinned as one and Rolf patted his bed in an invitation for Rhys to sit and join their conversation, chirping,

"And he sleeps with a pillow under his sword!"

xXx

Now Soren's eye was definitely twitching.

"We can't even trust the _priest_?" he hissed to Ike, who merely shrugged.

"Soren, eventually they'll tire themselves out--"

"No, they'll listen to authority!" said Soren, quite…authoritatively. "Who do you think can put a stop to this?"

"Er, well, I suppose Titania is pretty good at--"

"Fine. Titania! See to those hooligans at once."

The redheaded woman in the corner raised an eyebrow, but eventually set down the axe she was cleaning and slowly climbed the stairs to the source of the faint laughter.

xXx

Titania was just about to pound on the door to Oscar's room, hearing several voices inside, but one in particular made her stop.

"Stefan has to shave with the Vague Katti—because the only thing that can cut Stefan is _Stefan_!"

That was Oscar's voice. Titania frowned in confusion before slowly pushing open the door. She peeked inside to find that Oscar was smiling, Rhys was sitting on Rolf's bed and looking quite pale, Rolf was gaping at Oscar's words, and Boyd was rolling his eyes at his younger brother's reaction.

"I bet it's true!" Rolf squeaked, his eyes as wide as saucers. Boyd snickered, and the little archer rounded on him. "Stop laughing at me! If Oscar said it, it must be true! Stefan can only be cut if he's doing the cutting!"

"Oh, really?" Titania asked playfully as she folded her arms and leaned against the doorpost.

Oscar glanced up guiltily and blushed slightly, Rhys looked even guiltier and even redder, and Boyd and Rolf were…completely unfazed.

"Yeah!" Rolf cheered, waving Titania into the room. "C'mon and listen, you'd never believe what these guys know!"

Titania merely looked at Oscar, quirked an eyebrow, and grinned. He smiled back, patting the spot on the bed next to him as he invited her to sit. The female knight sighed and shook her head.

"We can't, Oscar—Soren sent me up here to make sure you all went to bed, and--"

"A little fun now and then couldn't hurt, Titania," Oscar interrupted gently. Titania felt her resolve weaken. The love was plain on Oscar's face as he watched his brothers' smiles, and she was such good friends with the green-haired paladin that she found it hard to pass up a chance to relax with him. It made her happy to see him happy—to see them all happy.

That's what Greil would have wanted, wasn't it?

She ignored the sudden twinge in her heart as she crossed the room and sat down next to Oscar, listening to Boyd crow, "Stefan eats steak for every single meal—and sometimes, he forgets to kill the cow, first!"

xXx

Titania did not return.

Soren steepled his fingers and glared about the room, scowling deeply. His choices had been too weak, thus far. A loving brother, a gentle man of the cloth, and a _woman_…? In all honesty, he wondered why he had started with such careful tactics in the first place. What this situation needed was brute force, and so Soren called upon the man he should have sent upstairs from the start:

"Gatrie. Quit ogling Mia and go make sure that you put an end to the nonsense going on upstairs."

"Why can't _you_ go upstairs?"

"Firstly, because I am very busy coming up with tactics to save your sorry rear should a battle arise tomorrow; secondly, because if you _don't_ go, I shall tell Mia exactly where you were staring when she wakes up—and even my tactics wouldn't be able to save you, then."

Gatrie went.

xXx

The knight took some time to arrange his features into his best Angry Face before raising a meaty fist to bang on the door, intending to startle the people within—but what he heard through the door startled _him_: Rhys's voice.

"You know, I've heard that Stefan is the leading cause of death in Crimean males over twenty--"

"Really?!" interrupted a squeaky voice that could only belong to Rolf. Now rather curious, Gatrie slowly opened the door to peek inside.

"Is there a party going on in here?" he asked suspiciously.

"Come on in!" invited Rolf, interrupting Oscar as the eldest brother stood up with a half-hearted attempt at his duty:

"No, no, Rolf, this has gone far enough, everybody needs to go--".

Gatrie chose to ignore Oscar and listen to Rolf, moving inside and shutting the door behind him—Titania was in the room, and he sure wasn't about to pass up the chance to spend time with the beauty outside of the battlefield!

"Are you all talking about Stefan?" he asked, folding his arms and leaning back against the door.

"Yeah," said Rolf, his eyes wide and glazed with Hero-Worship. "He can do _anything_!"

"Man, do I have a story for you," Gatrie chuckled. "Count from one to ten."

"One, two--!"

Rolf was cut off as Boyd yelled "Not _seriously_!" and threw his pillow at his younger brother's face.

Gatrie raised his eyebrows, still hoping to have some sort of impact with the moment: "Ten seconds is all it would take for Stefan to kill you…sixty-seven times."

"WHAT?" screeched Rolf, which gratified Gatrie, considering that everyone else pulled that _I-don't-believe-that_ face they made so often when he spoke.

"No, I mean it!" Gatrie protested. "It's called 'astra', guys! You haven't seen him do it? It's this amazing sword move he made up that can kill five men at a time--"

"Gatrie, that's a little exaggerated…" reprimanded Oscar.

Boyd stared his brother down from across the room. "You can't exaggerate Stefan. You can only stephan Exaggerate."

Oscar groaned and covered his face with a hand. "That didn't even make sense."

It didn't matter.

xXx

"Ike!" growled Soren.

The commander of the Greil Mercenaries just grunted once from beneath his stockpile of battle maps and gave the mage his customary response: "Busy, ask Mist."

Soren wasted no time in summoning the girl, who crinkled her little nose in confusion as he explained the current lunacy taking place upstairs.

"But Soren," she protested, "they can't go to sleep if they aren't tired, and they obviously aren't tired--"

"Go _make_ them tired!" Soren ran an agitated hand through his inky hair. "Tomorrow's march is imperative! Mist, please—you're the only voice of reason! They'll listen to you!"

"Have you _met_ Boyd?" Mist muttered. She glanced balefully in Ike's direction, but her older brother was still absorbed in his planning, so she took a deep breath to remind herself that Soren only had their best interests at heart and loped up the stairs.

Mist had to admit, she was curious as to what everybody was doing upstairs. They had all disappeared, one by one, sucked into the strange trap that Rolf and Boyd had no doubt concocted. She knew that Soren would be angry if she, too, fell prey to it, so she pressed her ear to the door in an attempt to prepare herself for what she was up against.

"When Stefan does a pushup, he's actually pushing Tellius down!"

Boyd's voice floated through the door, and Mist had to clap a hand over her mouth to cover a giggle—although a couple of awed gasps also reached her ears, she knew that Boyd was probably only trying to make himself look good by telling the biggest, tallest tale that he could.

Of course, Mist never liked when Boyd won anything, and she was sure that she had something even better to say, if they were talking about Stefan. She couldn't suppress her grin as she opened the door, poked her head into the room, and piped,

"Stefan doesn't know how to make a fire…because murder is a dish best served cold."

Rolf gasped, Rhys turned white, and even Gatrie looked a little uneasy. Mist was promptly invited into the room.

xXx

"Their laughter is driving me insane!" Soren gasped, his hands fisting in his hair. "I can't tell if it's wafting down the stairs or inside my very head!"

"Down the stairs," Ike replied quickly before going back to his maps. Soren scowled.

"I cannot concentrate with them awake and causing mischief, yet I cannot go to force them to stop because I have so much planning left to do!" He quickly scanned the room, looking for someone else in his stead, praying that his next choice would not succumb to the brothers' antics. It was then that his gaze fell upon Mia, who stirred by the fire, yawning and rubbing her eyes.

"What time is't, Boss?" she asked drowsily. "I think I fell asleep…"

_Perfect. She is too tired to join in on the nonsense. I shall send Mia!_

Soren quickly explained the situation to the violet-haired girl, cleverly adding that the sooner she shut everybody up, the sooner she could get into her nice, soft, warm bed.

"Mmkay," she agreed, in the best of spirits even when half-asleep. "I'll go say g'night to everybody."

She walked slowly up the stairs—more slowly, Soren noted with hope, than he had _ever_ seen her move. Surely, bedtime was nigh.

xXx

Mia yawned once, hugely, as she stood in front of the door and mustered up the strength to lift a fist and knock. It shouldn't take long, she knew…she always managed to wake up quickly, being an early bird, and she already felt a lot more awake than she had just a moment ago, walking up the stairs…the sound of Mist's voice stopped her, however, when she had her arm halfway up.

"Stefan can use glass to set ants on fire…at night."

_Stefan?_ Mia's sleep-fogged mind struggled to match a name to the face. _Sounds familiar…it's a green word…green like…the man's hair—the sword-wielding man's hair…_

_STEFAN THE SWORDMASTER! YES! YesyesyesyesYES!_

Mia's energy suddenly returned in the excitement of remembering watching the expert swordsman slice his enemies to pieces on the battlefield. Stefan was truly excellent! One day, Mia wanted to be as good as him!

"Are we talking about Stefan?" she asked eagerly as she swung the door open, ignoring the fact that a few people in the room jumped nervously at her sudden entrance. "That guy's so impressive, I betcha he _can_ judge a book by its cover!"

Mia forgot all thoughts of sleep as she was welcomed into the conversation with Rhys's smile and Boyd's addition of,

"And Stefan doesn't read, either—he just stares books down until they tell him what he needs to know!"

Everybody shivered a bit.

xXx

"Marcia," said Soren coolly.

The drowsy pegasus knight raised her head from where it had been resting on her fist to look at him somewhat blearily. "Yeah?"

"Your brother is Makalov, yes?"

"Yes," she dryly answered, "Unfortunately. Why do you ask?"

Instead of answering directly, Soren pursed his lips and glanced up at the ceiling. "So…thanks to your brother…you must be quite good at keeping dunderheads on track, I would assume."

Marcia furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, you know…things like making sure he eats well, and brushes his horse, and…_goes to bed on time_…"

"So you want me to stop whatever's going on up there?" Marcia guessed, pointing at the staircase.

"Please and thank you."

xXx

"Stefan knows everything in the world," said Mia's voice, muffled from behind the door. "Everything…except for the definition of 'mercy'."

Somebody squeaked in fear—Rolf, it sounded like, although it could easily have been Rhys. A few others gasped. Marcia had to admit, she was very curious…and as she pushed open the door, she was already coming up with her own clever response to Mia's words.

"If at first you don't succeed, you're not Stefan!" Marcia chirped to the large group assembled within Rolf and Boyd's room. Several people looked nervously towards the door, as if expecting the swordsman himself to appear behind her—she was quickly brought inside and the door was shut before such a thing could happen.

xXx

"…Ilyana," said Ike disbelievingly, glancing at Soren. "You just sent _Ilyana_ upstairs."

The irritated sage raked his fingers through his hair. "She just might have the power to shut them all up. One never knows."

"You really, actually just sent…_Ilyana_."

"Ike, I'm desperate."

"Must be."

xXx

Ilyana didn't particularly want to be in charge of forcing the Greil Mercenaries to go to sleep…in fact, all she really wanted right then was a snack.

_Maybe they have some in there_, she thought weakly to herself as she made a loose fist in preparation to rap on the door.

"Everyone _does_ have a soul that lives on after death." Marcia's voice suddenly sounded from the other side. "Stefan would know—he thinks they're delicious."

_Mmmmmm, delicious. Delicious souls…_

Trying to keep her mouth from watering, Ilyana pushed open the door to share her own personal theory: "When Stefan wants an egg…he cracks open a chicken..."

_Mmmmmm, chicken…_

Everyone in the room had jolted at her entrance, and several gusty sighs of relief sounded as she was recognized.

"Oh, it's Ilyana!" said Rolf happily. "Hey Mist, tell Ilyana that one about how Stefan can't make a fire because murder is a dish best served cold!"

_Mmmmmm, murder…_

"Does…does anyone have…something to eat?" the mage asked faintly, feeling herself sway on her feet. Oscar was able to jump up from his bed and catch her right as she swooned from hunger, taking her to sit next to him and Titania.

xXx

Ashera, now it was even worse! On top of the whispers and giggles and general nonsense, now there were _screams_!

"That's it!" Soren shouted, finally rising from his chair and slamming his book down on the table. "If you want something right, you need to do it yourself!"

Ignoring Ike's look of sudden perturbation, Soren marched up the stairs to end the shenanigans of the Greil Mercenaries—once and for all! He had made it to the dreaded doorway and was just about to pound on it when he heard Gatrie say from inside,

"Curiosity didn't kill the cat…Stefan killed the cat."

"W-what cat?" asked Rolf timidly.

Soren could just imagine Gatrie's face as the knight ominously whispered, "_Every _cat."

The sage felt his lips twist into a smirk at the sounds that suddenly slipped from the room—several terrified gasps, a lot of movement (doubtlessly as people huddled together), and…was that _Rhys_, who squealed like that?

"The pen is mightier than the sword," said Mia suddenly in a hushed voice, "but only if Stefan is holding that pen."

Oh yes, it was definitely Rhys. And the strangled "eep!" might have come from Oscar.

Soren gritted his teeth in frustration as Boyd's voice floated through the door: "If a tree falls in the middle of a forest, and there's nobody there to here it, does it make a sound…? Yes. Because _Stefan_ hears it. He hears everything. He can even hear you quaking in your boots, right now…and the hairs standing up on the back of your neck…and the terror inside your _soul_—"

That was the last straw. Soren flung open the door so hard that it cracked against the wall behind it with a loud _bang!_, causing several people in the room to outright scream.

"That's enough!" he yelled furiously. "I have been trying to keep you idiots quiet _all evening_! Do you realize that you are jeopardizing tomorrow's march with your foolish stories and _ridiculous_ jokes? Now, you all will return to your own rooms, you will go to bed, and you will do so _immediately_!"

The room was silent for a long, long moment.

"He who laughs last, laughs best," said Boyd finally. "He who laughs at Stefan…dies."

"AAAARG!" Soren roared, clutching at his hair, but his anger was lost amidst the sudden panic of the room as they reacted to Boyd's words. "I'll show you…I'll show you all! You _will_ go to sleep, mark my words!"

He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

xXx

There was a knock on the door.

Boyd looked up in alarm, Rolf whimpered, Mist clutched Mia's arm, Gatrie found an excuse to throw his arms around Marcia, Marcia hit Gatrie in the face, and only Titania had the sense to call,

"Come on!"

The door slowly pushed itself open to reveal a man standing in the doorway, pushing aside a lock of messy green hair to sleepily rub his eyes.

"Hey, everybody," he mumbled, "Soren woke me up to ask you all if you could go to bed now--"

"IT'S STEFAN!" shrieked Rolf and Boyd, scrambling out of their beds to point at the man. Everyone else in the room jumped to their feet and began trying to run for their lives, shrieking and slamming into each other in the process. Stefan stepped back from the doorway, rather confused, and the Mercenaries took that opportunity to slip past him and sprint for their own beds, where they stayed—cowering and silent. Stefan scratched his head before heading down the stairs to report to Soren and Ike that he had accomplished his mission.

"So the dimwits were right," Soren remarked to the drowsy swordmaster, without even glancing up from his book. "You really _are_ that amazing."

* * *

The next morning dawned, cold and bright and clear. Soren himself felt very rested, although the dark rings beneath the eyes of most of the company informed him that they had all slept terribly—no doubt trying to keep an eye open for another sneak attack from Stefan.

_Well, it serves them all right,_ he thought irritably. _If they had just listened to me, we would_ all _be well-rested, today._

The army was making a bit of a ruckus…Soren had refused to let them eat breakfast in the inn, seeing as they had used up too many of their funds paying for the plates that Rolf and Boyd had broken last night before "bed", so they were busy making small cooking fires to make their own food with. It might have been a much easier job had they not all been jumping at shadows and dropping pots and spilling boiling water.

"Ike," Soren called across the din, smiling wickedly, "I heard something truly spectacular about Stefan, last night."

The entire army slowed their movements to listen as Ike looked at his tactician. Only the barest twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed that he was playing along with Soren's joke as he asked, "Really? What'd you hear?"

Soren paused a moment for emphasis. "Oh, Ike, he truly _can_ do anything. Why…I heard that one time…he got even the most idiotic soldiers in a certain band of mercenaries to go to bed."

"That's funny," Ike chuckled as said soldiers scampered off to get their weapons, sufficiently cowed.

* * *

_A/N: Why I seem to feel the need to employ redundancy and parallel structure to get my humour across, we may never know. We DO know that it is absurd and unnecessary, and I apologize for that._

…_Doesn't mean I didn't have too much fun writing this, regardless xD._

_Questions, comments, medical bills for the damage I just did to your brain? There's a niiiiice little button down there. Click it. It's fun._


End file.
